Waiting For Ted
by therealandromeda
Summary: Andromeda Tonks has always lived for her husband- but now that the war has taken him away from her, how is she supposed to go on?


Waiting for Ted

"Mum-"

"Hush, Nymphadora," Andromeda snapped, her green eyes narrowing at her daughter. The younger woman blinked, taking a step back, but she fell silent. Across the room, her husband gave her a look, but Andie wasn't paying any attention to him, either. She was too busy twisting the knob on the wireless, her brow furrowed in concentration. Finding the station she wanted, she pulled her wand out of her pocket with a shaking hand, tapping the box and muttering, "Phoenix." For a long moment, silence was all that greeted her, and no one dared breathe, let alone move.

"Come on," she whispered, the words practically a prayer.

"Andromeda, maybe you should go lie down. Dora can come get you if there's anything worth reporting." Remus' voice was soft and almost deploring, but Andie wasn't listening. Her slender fingers were stroking the faux wood of the wireless almost lovingly. Behind her, her daughter and her son-in-law were exchanging looks, debating the best way to switch tactics to peel the elder woman away from what had become her all-too-familiar spot. Most days, she sat in front of the wireless for hours, listening to the dull silence come from its speakers, her exhausted green eyes drilling holes into it, pleading silently for some word of the absent figure that was like a ghost between them. She had never forgiven herself for letting Ted talk her into staying behind to watch over Dora, and if truth be told, most days Dora had to look after her, coaxing her to eat and to forcing her to retire to her bed, where she tossed and turned for hours.

"…Greetings to all of our listeners…"

A tremble ran down her spine, and she pressed a hand to her lips to suppress the lump that was rising in chest, threatening to make her sick. Every night was like this, waiting for news that didn't come. She always felt exhilarated at the close of every broadcast, firmly believing that every night that closed without sign of her husband was an affirmation that he was still alive, and that he was holding fast to his promise to her: that he would come back. He had to.

"Come on, Ted," she breathed, not caring if the others heard her desperation. "You promised me."

Dora sank slowly to her knees behind her, her heavy belly making the move difficult, and wrapped her arms around her mother's shoulders. Andie was so thankful for the stability of her daughter that she didn't even bother to brush her off, despite her general dislike of physical affection, and she leaned back into the younger girl. "He'll be back, mum," Dora whispered in her ear, but Andie heard the strain in her voice. They rarely agreed on anything, but they both held an unending loyalty to the Tonks patriarch, and their mutual suffering over his absence had formed a temporary stalemate for the lesser matters. "You know he's rubbish at lying." Though the joke was a sad attempt at making her laugh, it brought tears to Andie's eyes instead.

"…_There was also evidence of a recent battle in her home, and the building next door…."_

_Get on with it, Andie thought, letting her hand finally fall to her lap. She barely registered Dora's breathing in her ear, or Remus shuffling the paper he wasn't even reading, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. On the mantel, the clock ticked away seconds as if they were years. The words of the broadcast didn't make sense to her, lost in the anxiety that had taken over her husband's place in her bed. _

"_Sadly, these aren't the only deaths that the News Network and_ Daily Prophet _didn't think important enough to mention…_"

Silence fell as they all collectively held their breath, not daring to break the moment, the last possible minute they might have Ted alive. It was a repeated affair in their household, both hated and loved. No news was worrying, but news from that source was hardly a good thing. Andromeda's mouth moved, but no words came out as her husband's name was mouthed quickly on repeat, another day's worth of prayers coming down to one thin moment that could change the rest of their lives forever.

"_It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murder of__Ted Tonks__and__Dirk Cresswell__…"_

_All the blood rushed to her ears, and for a moment, Andie heard nothing. The name played over and over in her mind, all meaning lost as it processed the deep blow, assessing the damage. _ Ted was… dead?

"No," Dora wailed behind her, but Andie just stared dumbly at the wireless. "No, dad can't- he can't-"

"Dora!"

She didn't feel a thing as Dora's arms fell from her shoulders to be gathered into Remus'. She didn't hear her daughter's sobs, or hear her son-in-law say her name. All she heard, again and again, was Ted. He wasn't coming home. He had broken his promise, and he wasn't coming back to her. He was gone. No, worse than that, he was dead. She would never again feel his arms around her, or hear him call her that merlinforsaken pet name of his (Dromeda, how ridiculous), or listen to his jokes about the Muggleborn Registration Committee's most wanted list.

He was gone.

Almost as quickly as the numbness had come, it was gone, replaced with a frantic anxiety unlike any she had ever felt. She reached up and switched the wireless off quickly before she could even hear the password for the following broadcast, and wide eyed, she turned to face what was left of her family. "They're wrong," she said, her voice an almost feral growl.

"Mum…?" Dora's face was red and blotchy from crying. Remus wisely kept his mouth shut, staring at her.

"They're wrong," Andie repeated louder, her hands balling into fists. "He's coming back. He's just… he's just late." The words were irrational, but Andie didn't care. They were all she had left to cling to, the one last shred of hope she refused to let go. "He promised us, Dora." She snapped fiercely, her eyes blazing. "He's coming back." She turned and snatched up the wireless, and ignoring the protests behind her, she stormed to the front door, throwing the door open and chucking the box outside. It smashed against the hard winter ground, and yet she didn't feel vindicated against the hateful words it had spewed. She didn't feel anything.

Without thinking, she pulled out her wand, setting the pile of broken wood and wires ablaze. "He has to come back," she whispered to the night sky. "I can't do this without him." As she stared at the remains of the wireless, she felt the first tear fall, followed quickly by another.

Ted had broken his promise. He wasn't coming back this time.


End file.
